


something wicked this way comes

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Series: hogwarts malec [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Awkward Alec, Developing Relationship, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, It's just pure fluff, M/M, Magnus is besotted, Meet-Cute, and catarina and ragnor are not amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus Bane, the guy Alec's had an embarrassing crush on for about six years, is swearing at a book that sits just out of reach. </p><p>Magnus Bane, the guy who doesn't know that Alec exists. </p><p>Until now, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Queen Bane of Our Existence

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little meet-cute plot bunny thing that's been bouncing around in my head for a while. I might add to it if I find the inspiration. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think, thank you!
> 
> Edited: Just a warning: there is a small mention of (incest) Alec's crush on Jace, which is very much in the past now, in the first part of the fic. I only touched on it lightly and I sincerely apologise if it caused offense or upset, I never meant to make anyone uncomfortable. 
> 
> Edited: Second Chapter up now! :)

Alec watches Jace press his nose up against the window, his breath fogging up the glass. There’s a glint in his eye that Alec is used to spotting on Izzy, not his adoptive brother, something that looks almost like lust.

“Put your tongue back in. It’s a broomstick, Jace, not a PlayWitch magazine.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bother of mine,” Jace says hungrily. “This isn’t just any old broomstick, it’s the best broomstick in the entire world. Look at it, and tell me it wouldn’t look a thousand times better with me riding it.”

Alec wrinkles his nose. There are so many innuendos’ in that sentence, so many jokes he can make, that it’s not worth it, it’s too easy. He elects to ignore Jace instead (something he does often) and goes back to scouting Diagon Alley in search of his ever-elusive sister. The street is pretty busy, what with it being only a day or two before term starts, but Alec is tall enough that he can easily see over the heads of all the muttering, bumbling witches and wizards.

He sees a harassed-looking mother mumbling to herself as she scans a list, one hand wrapped around the wrist of her excitable son. He sees a pale blonde guy with a tower of boxes in his hands, staggering towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He sees a flash of red hair that might belong to Clary Fray, the girl that Jace has been slack-jawed over since first year, coming out of the stationary shop with several brown paper parcels clutched to her chest.

There’s no sign of Isabelle, though.

“She’s probably just flirting with Fortesque’s son,” Jace says, still staring eagerly at the broom. “He’s her type, after all.”

“How is he her type?”

“Well, you disapprove of him, for one thing.” Jace grins slyly. “Plus, he’s got the whole mysterious, misunderstood bad-boy vibe going for him, which admittedly doesn’t work as well for him as it does for me, obviously, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Alec asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “And Izzy isn’t a beggar.”

Fortesque’s son owns the ice cream parlour just up the road, and he looks like he’s just jumped out of a bad detective series, what with the shaved head and the plethora of tattoo’s. Sometimes he even wears those ridiculous hats. That alone, wouldn’t be enough for Alec to judge him, since pretty much his entire family, including himself, has tattoo’s of some kind, and Alec knows he can look a bit intimidating at times. So, it’s not just the guy’s appearance – it’s everything else about him, and the way he looks at Izzy. And everyone else, for that matter.

Honestly, it doesn’t matter what the guy is like – nobody’s good enough for his sister. It’s just a fact.

“She’d kick your ass if she found out you were brooding over the fact that she’s flirting with someone,” Jace reminds him.

“Indeed I would,” Izzy agrees, appearing at Alec’s left side and calmly smirking at him over a bubblegum pink ice cream cone, one that Alec has no doubt was probably free. “But Alec knows better than that, don’t you, _mi_ _hermano_?”

A bit of ice cream trickles down Izzy’s wrist, and she catches the eye of a passing blonde and holds his gaze as she licks it off her skin. The guy’s eyes go wide and he stumbles forward, tripping into his friend, who swears and punches him in the shoulder.

“Stop tormenting the locals, Iz,” Alec says, smirking with amusement. “C’mon, help me drag Jace away from that broom before he --”

“Oh my _Merlin_ , is that the new Ginevra3000?”

“—drools all over the window,” Alec finishes lamely, as Izzy smushes herself up against the window. She shares an excited grin with Jace, who starts reeling off every little detail about the broom, from the type of twine used to tie the twigs together, to the amber engraving in the slender handle. Really, Alec shouldn’t be surprised that Isabelle’s just as excited as Jace – they’re both fantastic fliers with a heady passion for sport, both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, both insanely obsessed with anything and everything even remotely connected to flying.

“I want it,” Isabelle announces, stroking one finger over the reflection in the glass. “I _need_ it.”

“Yeah,” Jace agrees, a little dreamily.

Alec grimaces. He’s a little less obsessed with Quidditch than his family, and that has absolutely nothing to do with being afraid of heights, because of course Alec isn’t afraid of heights, that would be ridiculous and pathetic (and absolutely true).

“We can’t afford two,” Alec says, even though they probably can. “And if we buy one then you’ll both tear it and each other in half in the space of, oh, I don’t know, five seconds?”

“It’s named after my hero, Alec,” Izzy says insistently. “She helped design it! It’s got her signature on it! It’s bound to be the best broom on the market for the rest of the year, if not longer, and we need that on the team this year if we want to win the cup.”

Alec shrugs. “Not my problem. We still have half of our school supplies to buy, and it’s only going to get busier here the longer we leave it.”

“Who wants to buy books when they could be looking at brooms?” Jace demands, looking slightly horrified, and Alec can see him inching towards the shop door. He doesn’t actually have much say over what Jace and Izzy do – Alec’s the oldest, and he’s technically in charge, and he doesn’t actually mind being the responsible one, but none of that means his siblings ever listen to him – but he knows that unless they get going now, then they’re going to end up starting their year with none of the materials they need.

Alec’s potions professor already hates him. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be allowed into the classroom ever again if he turns up without any books or ingredients and no idea what he’s supposed to be studying for in his exams.

“Clary probably does,” Alec says innocently, watching the red figure dart in and out of the crowd. He can practically hear Jace’s heart skip a beat, and that might have bothered him a few years ago. It had bothered him, right up until fourth year, when he realised that his crush on Jace was just a mix of curiosity and internalised fear and an unhealthy amount of what Izzy called worship. It had mellowed out, now, though, and their relationship isn’t so strained on Alec’s part.

Jace, of course, hadn’t noticed anything. If he had, then he had hidden it well, and for that Alec was grateful, but a large part of him suspected that Jace had just been oblivious to anything except for Clary’s eyes and hair and her perfume and her hands and her fiery personality.

And Quidditch, of course. Couldn’t forget Quidditch.

“I don’t see her,” Jace says, trying to subtly stand on his tip-toes whilst also leaning back against the shop window in an attempt to appear casual.

“She just went into Flourish and Blott’s.”

“Well, this seems like an excellent time to go and buy some books, doesn’t it?” Jace says cheerfully, pushing off from the window and strolling forwards through the crowd, which parts for him easily. Izzy sighs, casts one last, longing look at the broom and then stalks after Jace, hooking an arm through Alec’s crossed one to drag him along with her.

“The Muggle-born might be with her,” Alec says, wanting to comfort her but not wanting to encourage her. “And you still have half of your ice cream left. You can torture him, since he’s not local and I’m pretty sure he looks forward to it, actually.”

“Simon does turn a lovely shade of pink when he’s flustered,” Isabelle says thoughtfully. “And I do love pink.”

Alec snorts and lets her lead him into the shop.

He ends up lingering behind a bookshelf with a list in his hands, perusing the shelves with a frown. His resting face tends to look pretty bitchy no matter how he’s feeling, which is probably why an assistant walks up to him, squeaks, and then disappears, almost tripping over her own feet. She glances over her shoulder a couple of times, like she’s trying to make sure Alec isn’t following her, and Alec hunches his shoulders automatically.

“Someone’s got an admirer,” Isabelle murmurs as she slinks past, fingers trailing over the books.

“Who?” Alec furrows his brow, glancing around.

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Everybody thinks you’re the smart one, but sometimes you can be the most oblivious person on the planet.”

Alec pushes her away gently and Isabelle laughs as she darts off, presumably to find Simon, or maybe Clary. Alec’s never quite sure what’s going on there, so he leaves it alone (he’s pretty sure it also involves Raphael Santiago).

Alec pushes her face away gently and Isabelle laughs as she darts off, presumably to turn Simon to mush. Alec doesn't actually think she's interested in Simon, it's just the way that Isabelle is. She likes guys, and she likes flirting, and she's never _cruel_ about it, not really.

Alec spends a few more minutes rolling his eyes every time he hears Clary laugh a few rows over, before he hears a guy swearing beside him. Alec chances a glance and frowns.

From the back, he looks pretty ordinary. Black jacket, exceedingly tight jeans, and gelled spiky hair. He's short, too, shorter than Alec, which seems to be the reason for the creative stream of swear words he's releasing.

The guy jumps again and again, hand just grazing the book he needs, and Alec is torn between helping him and watching his top ride up, revealing a delicious slip of dark skin just above the waistband of his jeans, which sit precariously low on his hips.

In the end, Alec leans forward, towering over the guy, and easily extracts the book from the shelf.

The guy makes a slightly surprised noise, and turns around sharply before Alec gets a chance to back away. The result is Alec freezing, caging in the guy with his long, gangly arms in a way that's probably creepy, although the guy doesn't seem to mind --

 _Shit_.

It's Magnus Bane.

Magnus Bane, the stunningly gorgeous Ravenclaw sixth year, the one who throws insane parties in the Room of Requirement, the guy who's been slaying Jace and Izzy on the Quidditch pitch since they all got on their respective teams, the guy who's top of the year and fantastic at pretty much everything he does.

Magnus Bane, who’s a strange and exciting mix of kind and sweet and cunning and smart and smirky.

Magnus Bane, the guy who Alec's had an embarrassingly strong crush on for the past, oh, six years? Even when he was crushing on Jace, he had been aware of who Magnus was, _very_ aware, in fact.

Magnus Bane, the guy who doesn't know that Alec exists.

Until now, apparently.

"Normally I'd protest to the damsel act, but I'm willing to be in distress if it means you end up rescuing me," Magnus says, arching one eyebrow appreciatively. He gives Alec a blatant, slow once-over that Alec can't help but return, holding the book to his chest like a shield.

Magnus looks a lot less average from the front. His black jacket is bedecked with a pair of silver dragons that are swirling around his collar, writhing delicately. His jeans are still sinfully tight, but they're also tucked into very high boots with a pointed toe and a shiny buckle. There are sequins on the heels, too. His hair looks soft despite the gel, and there's a touch of pink at the tips of his high fringe. The scarf thrown over his neck looks incredibly expensive, and Alec wants to move back in case he accidentally lowers the value by breathing near it.

"This - uh, this is yours."

Alec hands Magnus the book. The other boy smirks and takes it, making sure that their fingers brush together. Alec's mouth almost falls open at the contact, but he manages to maintain a tiny bit of his dignity by clearing his throat and attempting a smile.

"Hello," Alec says, clearing his throat again when the word comes out a little dazed.

"Hello indeed. Got a name, sweetheart?"

Magnus has a voice like sugar and honey and everything sweet and soft, and it’s enough to lessen the slight sting at the fact that Magnus doesn’t know who he is, despite the fact that they share classes. Magnus didn’t actually expect him to know who he was, why would he? Alec is nowhere near the same league that Magnus is in.

"Uh, Alec," Alec says, a little awkwardly. The way Magnus is looking at him, all heavy-lidded and intrigued, makes him feel a little lightheaded.

Magnus dips sideways to lean one shoulder against the bookshelf, book held loosely in his hand as he looks Alec up and down again.

"Alec," Magnus says, rolling the word around his mouth like wine. "It's good to meet you, Alec. I'm Magnus Bane."

He holds out a hand, bedecked with many glittering rings, and Alec takes it automatically. He's not prepared for Magnus to flip his hand around and press a quick kiss to his knuckles, staining them with glittery lipgloss.

Alec almost chokes on his tongue.

"I should, uh – I have to –" Alec stops, jerks a thumb behind him, and then waves awkwardly before backing away. He almost trips over his own foot, misses the amused gleam in Magnus's eyes as he darts through the shop, abandoning the one book he'd managed to pick up in favour of slinking out into the bright sunshine.

Fuck it. Izzy and Jace can get their own damn books.

 

*

 

Magnus tucks the book under his arm and watches the boy leave with an appreciative gaze. Alec, he was called, which was presumably short for something. Aleki? Alexander? Magnus doesn't know, but he sure as hell wants to find out.

"Something that delicious should be illegal," Magnus murmurs. Catarina snorts in his ear, and Magnus is ashamed to say that he jolts in surprise.

"You have this inexplicable habit of popping up when I least want you there," Magnus says, hand on his chest as he turns back, only to be dismayed when he realises that Alec's gone. He sighs gustily and then turns to look at Catarina, who's eyebrow is quirked in both exasperation and smugness.

"You always want me around," Catarina says, rolling her eyes. "I'm a delight. Now, why are you drooling all over that poor boy? I thought you swore off Gryffindor’s after the whole _Camille_ incident."

Magnus grimaces -- he doesn't like to think about Camille, who's thankfully transferred to Beaubaxton's Academy of Magic right after she stomped all over Magnus's heart in high heels -- and then double-takes.

"What are you talking about?" Magnus demands. "That boy can't be a Gryffindor, he doesn't go to Hogwarts."

Catarina shoots him a pitying look. "That's Alexander Lightwood. Jace and Isabelle's older brother, you know, the two that always beat you at Quidditch. He's in our _year_ , Magnus, for Merlin's sake."

"Almost beat me," Magnus corrects her absently, staring at where Alec had disappeared with renewed interest. "He can't be in our year. There's no way I wouldn't have noticed him, and nobody could forget those baby blue's, _nobody_ , Catarina, do you understand?"

"Nobody apart from you, apparently.” Catarina snorts. “You do realise that he's in half of our mixed classes? You must have walked past him about a thousand times these past few years. I actually borrowed a book from him, once."

Magnus is blown away. He leans against the bookshelf and attempt to re-evaluate his life, which is a bit difficult to do when Catarina won't stop rolling her eyes at him, like he's a particularly pitiful dog that's just been to the vet and been removed of all dignity.

"Huh."

Catarina tugs on his arm. "You can fantasise about him later. I need a big strong man to carry all of my books for me."

"If I had said that, or even offered my services, you'd have decked me," Magnus points out.

"Yes, but I'm tired and I don't want to carry them today," Catarina explains patiently. "And I never said I wasn’t big and strong, too. Besides, I wasn't referring to you. _Obviously_ , I was talking about Ragnor."

"It would be an honour, my dear," Ragnor says drily, as they join him in the Divination section, "if only I weren't suffering greatly from a hex that saps all of my strength. You'll have to settle for Queen Bane of Our Existence."

"Shame," Catarina says, ignoring Magnus's splutters of protest. "He's too busy falling arse over head for Alexander Lightwood."

Ragnor makes a thoughtful noise. "Alec's not so bad. He could do worse. He helped me with my potion, once."

Magnus splutters even more. "How am I the only one who didn't know about this angel's existence? It’s a _crime_."

Catarina and Ragnor share a look, and Magnus throws his arms up in the air in distress.

"This just won't do," Magnus decides. "When we get back to Hogwarts, I've got work to do."

"Why do I feel like you're going to drag us into your idiotic attempts at courting?" Catarina sighs.

Ragnor adopts a pained look. "Oh dear. A sudden headache. How awful. I'll be leaving, then -- _ouch_."

"Don't kill him, Cat," Magnus says absently. "I've got plans for him."

And more importantly, he's definitely got plans for Alec Lightwood.

 


	2. A Genius Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus begins to woo Alec.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not meant to be continued? But it is being continued? I have continued it?  
> Thank you so very, very much for all of the brilliantly lovely comments that you have all left, asking for more, I decided to add another chapter which just sort of shows the beginning of their relationship unfolding even more. If that doesn't make sense then I'm sorry, it made sense in my head.  
> Again, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this!

“There’s a mystery that I’ve been attempting to solve recently.”

Alec jerks so hard in surprise that he leaves a long line of black ink on his half-completed essay. He glances up, a sharp word of reproach on his lips, and almost forgets how to breathe.

Magnus Bane sits gracefully in the chair opposite Alec and rests his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on one of Alec’s books. The table is pretty small, so their legs knock together under the table, thighs brushing, and Alec almost stutters out an apology before he remembers that he was here first. Plus, Magnus doesn’t look like he’s complaining.

Actually, he looks _good_.

He’s got a shirt on that’s unbuttoned on the top, his robes banished to who-knows-where. His tie is loose and askew, and Alec glances at the hollow of his throat, at the dark skin of his arms, where his shirt’s rolled up to his elbows. The tips of his hair are bright green, now, rather than pink, and his nails are painted black. Alec’s own nails twitch – he’s always sort of wanted to try nail varnish; it looks like it’d be relaxing, soothing, but he’s never gotten up the nerve to do more than contemplate it.

“Uh,” says Alec, eloquently. His quill dips in his lax grip, and another drop of ink blots his essay, gleaming wetly.

Magnus flicks his fingers, smiling, and the spilled ink vanishes.

Alec clears his throat. “I could have done that.”

Magnus smiles easily. “I don’t doubt that you could. Ragnor tells me that you’re exceedingly intelligent. Well, actually he just grunted, but Catarina said that you didn’t completely suck, so that’s high compliments from the both of them.”

Alec doesn’t know if he’s supposed to admit to knowing who Catarina and Ragnor are, or if he’s supposed to ask after them to keep the conversation going. He’s always been good with people, but social cues aren’t his forte, so to speak. He’s shy, too, surprisingly, which doesn’t help.

“I think I just solved my mystery,” Magnus says, with a wry little twist to his mouth. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t say it cruelly, just a little teasingly – warm, almost. It’s the only reason why Alec finds it in himself to ignore his own hesitation and actually open his mouth.

“Your mystery?” Alec quirks a brow, intrigued despite himself.

“The mystery of how I hadn’t noticed Alec Lightwood’s existence despite being in half of his classes over these past few years,” says Magnus, grinning. “Honestly, it really is a crime that I didn’t spot such a pretty face before now.”

“I think you’ve been understandably distracted by my siblings,” Alec says, ducking his head, to hide the dull flush creeping over his skin. He’s pale, so he blushes prettily easily, and it’s really _noticeable_ , which Alec hates.

Magnus’ cat eyes flick all over his skin, and Alec glances away.

“You mean Jason and Isabelle?”

“Jace,” Alec corrects him, although he thinks Magnus already knows that. “They’re both really popular.”

“Are they?”

“They’re both attractive, and on the Quidditch Team, and they’re pretty smart, as well,” Alec says fondly. “They’re really good people, too, when they’re not being a pain in my ass.”

Magnus actually laughs, _openly_ , at something that _Alec_ said, and Alec can’t hold back his surprised look. Magnus looks brilliant when he laughs, beautiful – it transforms his already gorgeous face into something achingly soft and warm and sweet, and it makes Alec’s head spin.

“You look nice. Um, like that. Smiling, I mean.”

Alec winces. It sounded slightly smoother in his head, and Alec’s always had a bit of a problem with thinking before he talks.

Magnus blinks at him for a moment, and then a grin spreads across his face. “You know, this means I get to lord this over Catarina. She said you probably wouldn’t be interested in me.”

Alec frowns. “This wasn’t a bet, was it?”

“No! Of course not, what do you take me for? I just wanted to get to know you, actually. You intrigued me in the bookstore, and I know so much about your siblings, that it seems only fair that I have some kind of relationship with you, too.”

“Relationship?” Alec hears himself ask.

Magnus cocks his head to the side. “Mmm. You can always tell me to leave, Alexander.”

Alec’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know my name?”

Magnus’ face goes completely blank for a moment, and then his smirk is back, but it’s softer this time. “I know your name. It’s a lovely name. _Alexander_.”

When Magnus says it, Alec agrees with him. It really does sound lovely.  

“I don’t really know what’s happening here,” Alec admits, a little bluntly, “but I have class in a minute.”

Magnus finds something about that funny, because he snickers slightly and then gets to his feet. He holds out an elegant hand, and Alec accepts it, standing up and almost banging his knees against his desk. He’s not usually quite this awkward, although Izzy wouldn’t agree. There’s just something about Magnus that makes it hard to concentrate on being _smooth_.  

Magnus’s hand lingers for a moment, and then he helps Alec tidy up the table. Alec slings his bag over his shoulder and realises how tall he is compared to Magnus. Magnus has to bend his neck back a little to look at him, which he does now, in the middle of the library, where Alec’s just realised people can _see_ them.

Not that he doesn’t want to be seen with Magnus, of course. But it’s Magnus – the guy is pretty popular himself, and Alec’s seen how people tend to swoon at the sight of him, boys and girls. Even when Magnus was with Camille Belcourt, people had walked past him with stars in their eyes, Alec included. He knows for a fact that the two broke it off not long before Camille transferred to Beaubaxton’s Academy of Magic, and he doesn’t know if it was a coincidence or if she was leaving because of Magnus. He doubts it was the latter; he can’t imagine Magnus doing anything to scare someone off that badly.

So it’s not that Alec doesn’t want to be seen with Magnus, but he’s confused as to why Magnus might want to be seen with him, and he’s also certain that by dinnertime, everyone in the school will know that Magnus spent his break talking to Alec in the library.

“I’ll walk you to class, if that’s alright?” For the first time, Magnus sounds a little unsure, but he covers it quickly with a cocky grin and a raised eyebrow, one hand on his hip. Alec smiled, pleased despite his confusion, and gestures towards the library doors. He has a feeling that once he does this, his life isn’t quite going to be the same again, but he can’t deny the thrill of pleasure and curiosity mingling in his chest.

He _wants_ to see where this leads him.

“Lead the way.”

*

Magnus is a genius. He doesn’t care what Cat says, or what Ragnor _doesn’t_ say; Magnus is a genius, and his plan to woo Alec Lightwood is a plan that only geniuses could have concocted. The fact that it only has one phase is beside the point, okay, he’s still a –

“Genius, yes, we heard you,” Catarina says, pointing her quill threateningly in Magnus’ face. “Say it again and I’ll gouge out your eyes, and then you’ll never be able to look at Alec’s ‘beautiful angel face’ ever again.”

“Violence is never the answer, my sweet Catarina,” Magnus says, pushing the quill away with the tip of his finger. “Besides, this is partially your fault for telling me that Alec goes to Hogwarts too. I could have lived the rest of my life never seeing that boy ever again, and isn’t _that_ a horrible thought.”

Catarina eyes him warily. “I’m not sure if I should slap myself for being an enabler, or if I should demand a reward for good behaviour.”

“You’re not an enabler,” Magnus says, just as Ragnor joins them, collapsing into the armchair beside them. “ _Ragnor_ is an enabler. And if you ask him nicely, I’m sure he’ll give you a _reward_ for good behaviour.”

Magnus waggles his eyebrows – no double entendre is complete without a good eyebrow waggle – and then he hastily vanishes Catarina’s quill before she has a chance to skewer him with it.

“You’re looking particularly bedraggled, darling,” Magnus says, waving at Ragnor.

“Because you made me climb a hundred sets of steps just to get you this,” Ragnor says grouchily, waving a piece of paper in Magnus’ face. Magnus snatches it up eagerly and pours over it.

“I never forced you to do anything,” Magnus says absently, as he flicks over the page. Catarina shoves him further up the sofa so that she can down instead of resting on the floor, and after a moment, Ragnor sighs and gets up so that he can sit on her other side, boxing her in.

“My bottle of vintage firewhiskey that you’re holding hostage says otherwise,” Ragnor says drily.

“What was so important that you had to threaten Ragnor’s drinking problem?” Catarina demands, putting her head on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It’s an order-form,” Magnus says, brow crinkling until he finds the right product. “For broomsticks.”

“You made me run, for Quidditch?” Ragnor asks, with a voice like he’s dying inside, and Magnus smirks at him around Catarina.

Cat’s eyes go large and round. “You’re buying the Ginevra3000? What’s wrong with your old broom?”

“It’s not for me,” Magnus protests weakly. He sees his friend’s dubious stares and rolls his eyes, flicking his wand so that Cat’s quill reappears and starts filling out the details for him.

“Well, it _is_ for me, but it’s not for the reason you think.” Magnus thinks back to their conversation and smiles.

_“Are you busy this weekend?” Magnus asks, careful to keep his voice airy._

_Alec glances at him cautiously, but there’s a curious light in his eyes and the blush still hasn’t faded from his neck, so Magnus feels pretty confident in asking._

_“Jace is supposed to be teaching me how to fly properly.”_

_Magnus comes to a halt, stunned. “You can’t fly?”_

_He quickly realises his mistake when Alec hunches his shoulders and speeds up, his long legs taking him away from Magnus easily. Magnus is a little surprised at the force of his panic, but he reaches out anyway and grasps Alec’s shoulder, halting the other boy._

_“I only meant it out of surprise, that’s all,” Magnus says. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Alexander, that definitely wasn’t my intention.”_

_Alec shudders, and Magnus isn’t sure if it’s because of his name or the touch, so he keeps his hand where it is. Honestly, it’s no hardship – Alec might not play Quidditch, but he’s still fit and toned, and Magnus can feel the warmth and size of him even through his robes._

_“I, uh, I’m not great with heights,” Alec admits, shrugging and refusing to look at Magnus. Magnus feels something in him ache a little, and he doesn’t know why._

_“A perfectly understandable fear,” Magnus says._

_“Not for my family,” Alec says, a little bitterly. “They’re all pretty intense when it comes to Quidditch. But, uh, you don’t need to know that. Sorry.”_

_“On the contrary,” Magnus says, “I enjoy getting to know you. But a fear of heights can be combated, if you’re interested?”_

_Alec eyes him warily. “That’s what Jace said. Only less patiently.”_

_Magnus snorts. “Please, boy wonder couldn’t teach a frog to croak if his life depended on it. I, on the other hand, have the patience of a Saint, and a very invested interest in spending time with you. We could combine the two, if that takes your fancy, darling?”_

_Alec doesn’t blush this time, not quite, since he’s too busy staring at Magnus wildly. For a minute, Magnus thinks he’s going to refuse, and his heart sinks a little. He’s not quite sure why, since he’s only really interacted with Alec twice, but there’s just something about the Gryffindor that makes his heart speed up a little._

_“I don’t have a broom,” Alec says, slowly, after a moment of hesitation._

_Magnus doesn’t sigh in relief, but it’s a close thing._

“I told him I could fix that problem easily, and we arranged to meet this weekend,” Magnus says, after he’s finished recounting the events to his friends. Ragnor looks as bland as ever, and Cat has a narrow look in her eyes.

“So you’re buying him a Ginevra3000,” Cat concludes. “The most expensive broom on the market.”

“I’m not going to just hand it to him,” Magnus protests, and Ragnor snorts.

“Of course not. You have to gift-wrap it first, obviously.”

Magnus fixes him with a lofty look. “Just because you’re jealous of my genius doesn’t mean you have to resort to insults all of the time, Ragnor. It’s unbecoming.”

“At least I know how to woo someone,” Ragnor says sourly.

“I’m sure Raphael is very impressed with your recount of how the Goblin Wars shaped the new age of witchcraft, but perhaps you could focus your attempts at wooing on someone who _isn’t_ trying to bang two Gryffindors.”

“I think you meant ‘bag’,” Catarina offers Magnus, whilst patting Ragnor consolingly on the shoulder.

Magnus ponders it for a moment. “No, I definitely meant bang.  My my, Sherwin and Isabelle are in for a pure roller-coaster of a relationship with that one. He’s such a riot of emotion, after all.”

Across the room, Raphael, who can easily hear their entire conversation, flips them off lazily.

Cat digs her fingers into Magnus’ ribs and sighs.

“Just finish ordering your ridiculous product of over-compensation and give me my quill back.”

“And give me my firewhiskey,” Ragnor demands sourly, sinking into the cushions with a look of weathered despair. “It’s been so long since I was last drunk, and I’ve started to feel emotions again.”

“Horrible things,” Magnus says happily, as he licks the envelope shut. He can’t _wait_ for the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Okay? I don't know.  
> I really hope you all enjoyed it, please feel free to comment and tell me what worked and what didn't, and thank you a whole bunch! It's always fun to write malec :D Thank you!  
> Find me @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr. Or @cococranberries on Twitter.


	3. Launch us into the Fucking Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying and kissing are very similar things. They both take Alec's breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The third, and possibly final, chapter! People asked for a continuation, and although I do have a few more ideas, this is actually a nice place to leave it, so I might do that. I had to give them some lovey-dovey scenes though. I really loved writing this, and I really loved all of the previous comments and kudos, they were lovely to receive. I hope you have fun reading it! Thank you!

“What are you so worked up about?” Isabelle asks, barely glancing up from where she’s organising her stash of nail varnish, make-up, and various torture devices that she swears are used to curl eyelashes, but which Alec secretly thinks are used to break bones. She’s taken up most of the sofa, with Jace curled up on a chair near her, legs thrown over the arm as he frowns down at a book in his hands. He’s halfway through the novel already, and it’s something classic and fictional, the kind of book that Alec doesn’t really enjoy reading. Jace eats stories up with a spoon, though. Reading and music are Jace’s escapes, when he isn’t playing Quidditch, and people always seem pleasantly surprised to find that he can hold an intelligent conversation, that there’s actually a brain behind the blonde locks. Alec watches him read for a moment, watches Izzy struggle with a zip on her pink make-up case, and then goes back to pacing the length of the common room.

The fire is lit despite the fact that, in Alec’s opinion, the room is stiflingly warm. There’s a group of younger Gryffindor’s in the corner, playing Gobstones and hissing at each other and cheering. Alec's Prefect side wants to hush them, even though he knows perfectly well that they're allowed to make noise, and he doesn't want to be _that_ seventh year. He's a responsible, fair person. He's _sensible_. He's not going to make a bunch of kids cry just because it's ten o'clock in the evening, on a Saturday, and Magnus Bane hasn't contacted him yet.

"You're being even stranger than usual, big brother," Isabelle informs him, reaching out to tug on his hand. Alec lets her pull him onto the sofa, sees the way her eyes light up when she notices that his nails are clean and bare, and then spends the next five minutes shoving his hands down the back of the sofa cushions in an attempt to keep her from painting them.

"She's going to win," Jace says, watching them wrestle over the top of his book, a smirk lighting up his face. "You might as well give in already."

"Have a little faith," Alec hisses, and then he accidentally elbows Izzy sharply in his chest and she shrieks, jolting upright and cradling her breast. Alec winces and scrambles off of the sofa whilst Jace sniggers loudly, doubling over and almost dropping his book. Isabelle reaches for her wand, her eyes narrowed.

"If you tell me why you're acting so strangely, I might consider forgetting about my bruised boob," Izzy says lightly, examining her wand with an air of casualness that Alec can see right through.

"He's been strange all day," Jace pipes up, yawning. "And he refused point blank to have our Quidditch lesson, which normally I'd have ignored, but he's so jumpy I think he might actually have died fallen off and died. We’ll practice next weekend, instead.”

Alec winces. He’s going to have to think of a way out of that, as well, if all goes well with Magnus. It’s not that he wants to keep blowing Jace off, but Magnus had seemed pretty keen to teach him how to fly, blathering on about brooms, and if this is the only way to spend time with Magnus, then Alec will take it.

Izzy hums thoughtfully, her eyes fixed keenly on Alec, who arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest and daring Izzy to say something. He trusts her, and she doesn’t think she will say anything, but Izzy likes to toe the line, sly little smile on her face as she drops ‘innocent’ hints.

Instead, she says, "Jace, don't you have somewhere to be? I think Clary mentioned something about the kitchens."

Jace pauses, putting his book down slowly on the nearest coffee table. He glances between them, curious, and Alec knows he can see that something’s up, but for once he doesn't push. He just shrugs, swings his legs off of the chair and heads to the door, ruffling Izzy's hair and punching Alec lightly on the shoulder as he goes.

"I am a bit peckish. Have fun on your date," Jace calls loudly over his shoulder, the portrait door swinging closed behind him, and Alec almost falls over before he realises that Jace meant _Izzy_ , not him.

"You have a date?" Alec asks, surprised, heart skipping with relief.

Izzy pulls a face. "I don't know. I'm meeting Simon in the astronomy tower tonight to finish off our star-charts, and he told me he invited Raphael as well. I _think_ it's a date, but I'm not sure. I’m not sure what to do if it is.”

Alec sits down next to Izzy and crosses his legs underneath him, thinking carefully.

"I don’t have much experience, but I know _you_. You’re good at this stuff, Izzy. I'm sure you'll figure it out," he reassures her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. They sit there for a while, in comfortable silence, and then Izzy lifts her head to look at him, her dark eyes clouded with curiosity and a touch of concern. They have the same

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Alec hesitates, biting at his lip. Part of him wants to talk to Isabelle, but a bigger part of him wants to keep this a secret, just for now. He's not as afraid of all of this possibility as he might have been, once, but he just wants to make sure he's got this _right_ , before he goes talking about it. He doesn't want to get his hopes up for something that might not get further than a first date.

"Soon," Alec promises her. "Just, not yet, okay?"

Izzy hums. "As long as you know that I support you. We all do."

Alec blushes, mumbling something under his breath. He bumps Izzy’s shoulder, and then watches his sister flounce off to get dressed – she’s already dressed, but apparently there’s some unspoken rule about the exact length of a skirt during a date, something that Alec hasn’t got a hope of understanding; his knowledge of fashion stretches to the rough size of jumper he prefers and which brand of jeans lasts the longest.

He waves to Izzy as she leaves a few minutes later, looking extremely sparkly in a sequined top, and then fidgets, waiting.

Magnus doesn’t send a message until gone eleven o’clock, and by then, Alec has almost given up on hearing from him. He’s prepared for it, for their last interaction to be an apologetic wave the next morning, at breakfast, but then the coin grows hot in his pocket, and Alec stops pacing abruptly, staring down at the galleon with an expression of mute shock. Magnus had given it to him, pushed it into his hands right before Alec had walked into class, explaining that he had a matching one that would enable them to communicate.

“He actually wants to meet up,” Alec mutters to himself, turning the coin over in wonder. Sprawled along the side is _meet me at the Quidditch Pitch_ , and Alec hurriedly rushes to the bathroom to fix his hair. He trips on his way out of the portrait door and the Fat Lady snickers at him, and then he trips again on the way down the grand staircase and thinks about calling the whole thing off; he’s a mess of trembling hands and fumbling words and his stomach is tight with nerves, and if this is what he’s like just standing around, then he can’t imagine what he’s going to be like when he’s actually confronted with Magnus and a broom.

Thankfully, the cold air outside is enough to slap some sense into him. He calms down slightly as he starts to walk quickly, head angled away in case anyone happens to be looking out of the window. Not that they’d be able to identify him, and Alec has a little leeway on curfews, given that he’s a Prefect, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Alec admits, as he walks towards the figure leaning casually against the stands. The grass is wet with dew and the moonlight casts shadows across the grounds. Alec jogs the last few steps and comes to a stop in front of Magnus, who smiles at him. There’s a ball of white light in Magnus’s hands that looks at home there, among the thin lifelines and slender digits. Its’ soft glow throws Magnus’ face into shadow, and Alec searches his amber eyes for any sign of regret, or maybe a prank, but there’s nothing there but warmth and a pinch of excitement.

“I thought you might prefer not to have an audience,” Magnus says, pushing off from the stands. “Hence the clandestine meeting, and the late hour.”

“I thought you might have changed your mind,” Alec says, before he can help it. “About meeting me. I wouldn’t blame you, if you did want to leave, by the way. You don’t _have_ to do this.”

Magnus watches him intently for a moment, mouth slightly open like he intended to say something but got caught up in Alec’s words, which had admittedly been a little rushed.

“I’m not in the business of doing things that I don’t want to do, Alexander,” Magnus says softly. “You can ask Catarina, or Ragnor, if you don’t believe me. There’s a pile of homework waiting for me in my room that’s about a mile high.”

Alec blinks at him in surprise. “You’re top of our year.”

Magnus winks. “Even geniuses slack off sometimes. Especially when there are more exciting things to do, like teaching pretty boys how to fly.”

Alec huffs a laugh, embarrassed and pleased, and lets the anxiety rush out of him. Magnus _does_ want him here. This isn’t pity, and so far, it looks like neither of them regret anything.

“I brought you a broom, since you said you didn’t have one.” Magnus reaches behind him to the two brooms that Alec can faintly see outlined against the Quidditch stands. They both look glossy and well cared for, and Alec is hesitant to accept one. What if he accidentally breaks it?

“I was going to borrow Jace’s, but I didn’t want him to get suspicious,” Alec mumbles, eyeing the broom like it’s a cleverly-disguised snake.

Magnus’s mouth turns down slightly, and Alec immediately regrets his words, hastens to explain himself.

“Not because I’m ashamed. He doesn’t know that I’m practicing Quidditch. If he did, he’d probably laugh at me, or make it into a competition to teach me first, so I just decided to keep it quiet. Not because of you, though, I didn’t mean …”

He trails off as Magnus puts a finger up to Alec’s lips, tapping the top one lightly. Alec’s mouth parts automatically, his stomach flipping over, and he thinks he sees a gleam in the other boy’s eye, but he dismisses it as a trick of a light. Silence settles over them, and then Magnus slowly draws his hand back.

“It’s fine, Alexander,” Magnus says softly. “More than fine, in fact. It means I get you all to myself, after all.”

Alec makes a choked sound and Magnus winks again, pushes the second broom into Alec’s limp hands before strolling casually into the middle of the pitch. Alec watches his hips sway, eyes glazed, and then he shakes himself. He’s supposed to be learning from Magnus, not perving on him. Still … Magnus doesn’t exactly make it easy to look away.

He looks down at the broom in his hands, instead, and almost drops it on the grass.

“Magnus,” he hisses, hurrying to catch up with Magnus’ retreating form. It doesn’t take long; Alec is tall, obnoxiously so, and he’s got long legs, so it’s pretty easy – four strides and he’s there, at Magnus’s side. Magnus arches an eyebrow innocently.

“Yes, darling?”

“This is the new Ginevra3000,” he says, staring from Magnus to the broom. “You’ve given me the wrong broom.”

He reaches for the one in Magnus’ hands, but Magnus takes a couple of quick steps back and straddles it before Alec can swap the brooms.

“You can come and take it from me if you like,” Magnus offers, voice soft and challenging. He raises his eyebrow again, and there’s nothing innocent about it. Alec feels flushed and hot, all the way from the tips of his ears to his toes, and he can feel his mouth hanging open.

“As tempting as that is,” Alec manages to say, “I’d rather not break something that costs well over four hundred galleons.”

He gestures at the broom in his hand, the one that looks brand new, but Magnus either mishears him or decides to _pretend_ like he mishears him.

“Why, Alexander, I’ll have you know that I’m worth much more than four hundred galleons,” Magnus says slyly, eyes gleaming. “And I’m not as fragile as you might think.”

Alec almost groans, his eyes slipping shut for a moment, feeling exasperated and more than a little flustered. When he opens his eyes, Magnus looks pretty pleased with himself, and rises up a little off of the ground, hovering there happily. Alec’s mouth turns up at the sight, unbidden.

He still wants to put the broom down, though. Preferably in a glass case, where he can’t break it.

“Now, your first lesson is easy,” Magnus says, smirking, and Alec begins to regret ever retrieving that book for this infuriatingly impossible boy. “ _Mounting_.”

*

“Just grip it gently.”

“This _is_ me being gentle.”

“If that’s you being gentle then I despair for any of your future boyfriends. I don’t even want to know how you survive your alone time.”

Magnus hides a grin as Alec makes a choking sound; it has the desired affect though, and Alec loosens his death-grip on the broomstick. He gets the feeling that not many people have spent time flirting with Alec, which is a grave error in Magnus’ opinion, one that Magnus intends to make up for, even if it’s only for tonight. He’s pretty invested in a second date, though, if he’s completely honest.

It’s surprising, how much Alexander makes him feel.

Camille had been a Gryffindor, before she transferred to Beaubaxton’s with barely a glance over her shoulder at Magnus’s crushed, broken heart. She fit there perfectly; loud and abrasive and headstrong, artful and smart, someone who viewed cowardice as a crime. Magnus had fallen for her heavily, and they had worked well together, or so he thought. Then she had left, and he has spent an entire summer mooning around and complaining to Catarina – he _tried_ to complain to Ragnor via letters, but the horrible boy just stole Magnus’ owl and kept it hostage for a week as a warning. He had sworn then not to date another Gryffindor, and Catarina slapped him over the head and told him not to fall into stereotypical ways of thinking, something she was firmly passionate about, and he had bought her a scarf in apology, a cashmere one.

Alec was a Gryffindor, through and through, and he was also a _delightful_ person. Intense and quiet, shy, but not a pushover. Honest to a startling degree, but not cruel about it. A little bit awkward, but Magnus didn’t mind that; it was sort of adorable, and Magnus knew what it was like to be flustered around someone – it was actually a bit flattering. Alec was brave, too, as evidenced by the way he’s currently frowning down at the broomstick, determination and fear warring in his eyes.

“What’s to stop it taking off after I straddle it?” Alec asks.

“You have to push up off the ground,” Magnus explains patiently. “It’s magical, yes, but broomsticks listen to your commands, whether you say them out loud or with your body. How far have you gone, before?”

“Maybe a couple of feet,” Alec admits. “I used to fly at home, with Izzy and Jace, when we were younger. My family sort of insisted on it, but I never went very high, and never very fast, either. Then we came to Hogwarts, and I decided to focus on studies, rather than Quidditch.”

“Noble pursuits,” Magnus says, just to get Alec to stop looking so tense. Magnus isn’t going to judge him, although he understands why it might look that way. “I wish I was a little less obsessed with it, sometimes, but it’s fun, and it’s something I’m good at.”

Alec’s smile blooms into a grin. “You’re fantastic. I watch you play from the stands.”

“Do you now?” Magnus murmurs, voice all syrupy. Alec surprises him by smirking a little.

“Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” he says, a little cheekily, and Magnus laughs loudly.

“Only when you’re involved, darling,” Magnus says, winking, and then he nudges Alec forward a little on the broom. Alec makes a small noise of surprise and then adjusts himself quickly, shifting his feet on the wet grass. It’s a nice night for flying, even if it is really dark, but for some reason that makes things seem a little more intimate, a little more comfortable.

“I take it you’re not opposed to company?” Magnus asks, as he situates himself behind Alec, swinging one leg over the broom and dropping his own one on the ground. Alec makes a stifled sound as Magnus puts his hands on Alec’s hips, gentle, aware that he wasn’t invited and not wanting to push. “I’ll admit that this is partially an excuse to get closed to you, but this is also the best way to teach you to be comfortable flying, until your muscle memory kicks in.”

Alec shifts, mutters something that Magnus doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Magnus asks innocently, leaning forward and cupping a hand around his ear. Alec glares at him briefly over his shoulder and then takes a steadying breath.

“I said that I’m not _un_ comfortable, not yet anyway,” Alec says. “If we’re doing this, you can put your hands on me. I don’t want to worry about you falling off as well.”

Magnus’s mind gets stuck on _put your hands on me_ and then something in his chest gets stuck on _worry about you_. This boy might be too much, Magnus thinks a little dazedly, although he doesn’t move away. Instead, he tightens his grip on Alec’s hips, steadying both of them, and relishes the dip in Alec’s breathing.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Magnus says, his voice a little lower than he intended. “Just push off the ground. You don’t have to go too high.”

He makes the mistake of leaning forward as he talks, his hot breath hitting the back of Alec’s neck, and Alec shudders and accidentally kicks off hard, sending them _rocketing_ up into the sky. Alec yells as they soar straight up into the night, his voice loud and whipped away by the wind. Magnus almost topples backwards and compromises by shoving himself forward hurriedly, so that every inch of him is pressed against Alec, and Alec yelps again as they shoot forward a few metres.

“Alec!” Magnus yells. “ _Calm down!”_

It does the trick. Or, it doesn’t do the trick, but it does get Alec to whip his head round and stare at Magnus incredulously, which means that at least they stop wobbling around everywhere.

“I am calm!” Alec yells, his voice shooting up several octaves. “That was _you_.” 

Magnus gapes at him. “All I did was _breathe_ on you. I didn’t know that was code for _launch us both into the fucking sky._ ”

Alec stares at him, his neck still twisted at an awkward angle, his blue eyes bright and wide. “I have sensitive skin.”

“Darling, that’s the biggest understatement of the century.”

Alec’s mouth twitches, and something rolls over in Magnus’s stomach, and then they’re both laughing. Magnus laughs loudly, clinging to Alec’s waist and chuckling into his shoulder, and Alec snickers, sounding a little giddy, a little disbelieving, like he hadn’t expected to actually have fun tonight, and was pleasantly surprised at the turn of events.

It’s cold, stuck up there, miles above the Quidditch Pitch, which is why Magnus feels utterly fine with leaning into Alec, crushing them both together on the broom. The laughter tapers off to be replaced with the sound of Alec swallowing thickly, and Magnus peers up at him in time to see Alec glance at the ground nervously. His hands have a death-grip on the broom again, and Magnus reaches around to put one hand on top of Alec’s clasped ones, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles soothingly.

“It’s alright,” Magnus says. “That was probably the best way of doing this anyway. Like ripping a plaster off. It’s a good job we didn’t go on separate brooms.”

Alec nods, shaking a little, and then squares his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

Magnus feels warm all over. He hums, and after a moment of consideration, he presses a tentative kiss to Alec’s shoulder, through his thin jumper, and grins against the black material when Alec’s breath catches. He wonders, fleetingly, if Alec’s ever been kissed, and then the broomstick starts to sink in the air, taking them down slowly.

“Enough for tonight?” Magnus asks softly. Alec’s other shoulder jerks, and he leans back a little into Magnus, who accepts the weight easily, gratefully, even.

“No,” Alec says, shaking his head. “I just want to be closer to the ground before I try to fly properly.”

They spend the next hour navigating the Quidditch pitch slowly, flying in circles. Magnus uses his knees to nudge Alec’s thighs, teaching him to direct the broom from left to right, how to make a particularly sharp turn when they almost veer into one of the hoops. Alec’s pretty smart, and he picks it up easily, even though he never stops leaning on Magnus, or turning his head, like he wants to check that Magnus is still there. Or maybe he just wants to look at him, Magnus doesn’t know.

One thing’s for sure, by the time they’re finished, Alec isn’t as afraid anymore.

They land on the grass a little hard, and Magnus slides right off of the broom, knees buckling a little as he tries to stay standing. Alec throws out an arm and catches him by the waist, broom falling to the floor and they both stay in the circle of each other’s warmth. It strikes Magnus, just how tall the other boy is, how long his body is. He can feel defined muscles under Alec’s jumper, and warmth and strength and the flicker of Alec’s heart. He very much wants to step closer, but ends up stepping back instead.

He doesn’t want to overwhelm Alec, after all. This is still pretty new.

He regrets it, when disappointment flickers over Alec’s face, and it’s that disappointment that prompts him to open his mouth.

“Ever kissed anyone?”

*

Alec whips his head up to stare at Magnus, who winces. Alec’s familiar with accidentally blurting things out, and he recognises that look on Magnus know, the way his eyes widen imperceptibly, the jerk of his hands as he goes to hold them up in apology. Or maybe he just knows what Magnus looks like, maybe he’s just spent a pathetic amount of time studying the boy in secret, staring at him over his cauldron and his books and whatever object he’s supposed to be transfiguring at the time.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“No,” Alec says bluntly, cutting over the rest of Magnus’s sentence. Magnus watches him cautiously, face half-cast in shadow. “No, it wasn’t inappropriate. I don’t mind if you want to ask questions. And no, I’ve never kissed anyone. Nobody’s ever wanted to kiss me.”

Alec winces. He doesn’t want to sound quite as pathetic as all that, but the damage is done now, and Magnus still hasn’t turned tail and ran. It’s late and dark, and he can barely see Magnus, despite the little orb of light that still flutters around them, despite the bright light of the moon.

“That,” Magnus says quietly, “is not quite true. In fact, that hasn’t been true since I first met you in Flourish and Blotts.”

Alec stares at him, stunned.

He knew something was happening here. He knew this was building up to be something pretty, something real, but he didn’t expect it to happen quite so fast. He didn’t actually expect Magnus to stick around at all, before tonight, but there’s something very intense in Magnus’s eyes that tells him he was wrong about that, something hungry that promises some sort of future.

Alec clears his throat. “Uh, it hasn’t?”

Magnus’ mouth twitches into something fond. “I’m going to be blatantly honest and say that I’m talking about me, here. I feel as if you have a habit of talking yourself out of believing things. Let’s make it very clear; I’m not going to pressure you, but I am very interested in a second date. And I am _very_ interested in kissing you, Alexander Lightwood. I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be interested in kissing you.”

His voice is a little flirtier by the end, paired with a wink, but Alec can see that he’s serious. It makes something hot explode inside his chest, his heart jack-rabbiting, and he reaches out to tug Magnus close to him. He might be shy, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to do this. Merlin knows he’s thought about it enough.

Magnus stares at him, eyes open in disbelief as Alec guides their lips together, hands on the lapels of Magnus’s expensive-looking jacket, leaning down so that he can soften the angle slightly. It’s not actually that soft, and Magnus stays stiffly shocked for a second before he surges forward a little, kissing him back. Alec can feel heat rush through his body, an enormous amount of relief pooling in his stomach. He can feel Magnus’s heart beating hard, and then a hand slips around his waist and pulls him in closer, and he sighs a little against Magnus’s mouth.

He tastes like mint and smells like crisp evening air. For a moment, there’s nothing except from the soft _shush_ of their lips grazing each other, and then a little slick sound as Alec pulls back. Magnus chases his mouth with a gasp and Alec gives in, kissing him again.

When they do eventually draw apart, Alec is flushed from head to toe and Magnus looks wrecked. It turns out that flying and kissing are two very similar things; they both take your breath away.

“For someone who’s never been kissed before,” Magnus says hoarsely. “You are surprisingly good at that.”

Alec grins a little shyly, scuffs his foot against the ground. He can’t keep his eyes off of the amber gaze in front of him, can’t stop looking at the specific shape of Magnus’s mouth, can’t stop wanting to trace it with his lips.

“Does this mean we’re doing this again?”

Magnus smirks. “Eager, aren’t we, darling? Which bit, specifically?”

“All of it,” Alec says simply. “I liked all of it.”

Magnus’s smirk becomes a breath-taking smile, and Alec is abruptly glad that Magnus is so short; he never would have needed Alec to fetch that book for him, otherwise.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, folks! (Possibly.) I very much hope you enjoyed this. Please leave a comment and kudos, I really appreciate that, and I answer every one, in case you have something to say/criticism to give me. Thank you so very, very much, this was such fun to write! Much love!
> 
> Find me @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr. Or @cococranberries on Twitter. Come and yell at me about malec! (In light of recent events, I wanted to write something very gay and very happy. It's the only thing I can do in support, coming from the UK, so I just want anyone reading to know that my tumblr and my account here is a safe space.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, leave a comment or a kudos if you're feeling friendly ;)  
> Also hi hello I am on tumblr: @thealmostrhetoricalquestion. Or @cococranberries on Twitter.  
> Thanks again!


End file.
